


Easter Angel

by ssclassof56



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Easter, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:58:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssclassof56/pseuds/ssclassof56
Summary: Napoleon cannot resist a damsel in distress, no matter her age.





	Easter Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal's MFU Writers Survival School for the Easter Egg Challenge 2016  
> Prompt: Patent leather shoes and children

Though furious snowstorms had roared through the northeast a few weeks earlier, March was going out like the proverbial lamb. Fleecy white clouds dotted the blue skies over New Jersey, and the warm sunshine prompted residents to exchange their heavy woolen coats for lighter spring apparel.

Napoleon stood on the sidewalk, his face screwed into a mask of frustration. For the fifth time in as many minutes, he compared his watch to the tall ornamental clock near the curb. Both confirmed his partner was late. While he had spent a pleasant half hour admiring the ladies strolling past, the jewelry store proprietor had begun to eye him nervously, and Napoleon realized if he loitered much longer he would likely receive a visit from the local constabulary. Since a communicator call would break Illya’s cover, Napoleon headed down Broad Street toward his partner’s temporary employer.

A banner stretched across the shoe store’s elegant Art Deco façade, proclaiming an ‘Easter Sale’ within. Napoleon peered into the curved window, past the artful arrangement of Keds, Hush Puppies and Life Strides. As his eyes adjusted, he scanned the various salespeople hunched on fitting stools until he spotted a familiar blond head.

The bell jangled as Napoleon entered the store. The employees barely spared him a glance, fully occupied with the crowd of mothers and children shopping for new Easter shoes. Illya met his eyes briefly, the flash of annoyance assuring Napoleon that the Russian’s delay was not due to any imminent danger. Assuming the role of a customer, Napoleon worked his way nimbly across the busy store and considered a display of children's shoes.

To his right, a young girl looked longingly at a pair of white patent leather shoes with silver buckles. Her lips moved silently. The older woman beside her frowned. “Amelia, what is that you’re chanting?”

“I’m not chanting, Grandma. I’m praying.”

“In the middle of a shoe store? Good Heavens, child, whatever about?”

Amelia looked at the white shoes. Her grandmother shook her head. “Oh, Amelia. I thought we’d talked about this. There’s only enough for one pair right now, and you need new school shoes.” She looked pointedly at the scuffed, fraying oxfords on Amelia’s feet.

“Father Murphy says God answers persistent prayer.”

“Of course He does, child, but I’m sure Father Murphy meant prayers for important things, like healing for the sick.” She picked up a saddle shoe from the display. “I think that new salesman is about to become available. I’m going to nab him before someone else does.” She marched off in Illya’s direction.

Amelia returned to her contemplation of the shiny white shoes. Napoleon squatted down to an equal height. If there was one thing he knew, it was women, even miniature ones.

“Let me guess. They make nicest click-click sound when you walk across the floor.”

Amelia turned her head to him warily. “How did you know?” Her eyes widened, and she looked him up and down, taking in the immaculate suit, the perfectly combed hair, the gentle smile. Her hand reached out toward him but was quickly withdrawn. “Are you an angel?” she whispered.

Napoleon blinked. He had been called Angel before, but never in this context. His eyes twinkled. “Well, let’s just say I’m an agent who’s been sent here on a very special mission.”

Amelia nodded solemnly. “Father Murphy says God sends his angels to help people. Who are you here to help?”

Napoleon pointed across the store. “See that blond gentleman with your grandmother? He's my special assignment. Would you like to assist me?” Amelia nodded. “After a busy, frustrating morning, he’s now had to work through lunch, which is sure to have made him cranky. Would you be extra kind to him when you try on the saddle shoes?”

“Is that all?” she asked in confusion.

“It's enough,” he said, patting her cheek. “The world being what it is nowadays, a little kindness can be a very powerful thing. Will you help?”

“Yes, I'll help you.” Her eyes gleamed in sudden excitement. “Do I get little wings for being a junior angel?”

Napoleon felt his pockets. “I'm afraid I'm all out of wings. But I’ll tell you what, I think I can arrange something just as good.”

Amelia’s eyes darted to the white shoes and back to Napoleon’s face. He winked. With a squeak, she threw her arms around his neck.

"Happy Easter, Amelia.”

“Happy Easter, Mr. Angel.”


End file.
